Frigidum Aurora
by GronHatchat
Summary: Characters from Batman are re imagined in Japan, as if Batman takes place there. The story focuses on Katsu Susuzhii (a Japanese equivalent to Mr. Freeze) who, after being deprived of a much needed chance to further research into saving his terminal wife Mai, rises from a terrible lab accident with a frozen, corrupted biology and a plan for vengeance.
1. Chapter 1

_Souls filled with darkness,_

 _Blessed be the one who flees,_

 _From the devourer._

 _-Gaito Otsuka_

Suzushii Katsu cried sometimes. Sometimes, and this was the most intent keyword upon establishing within one's memory and focus. If you cried, at least do so on a sometimes level, his mother had taught him, so that you save tears for others who need them. She had said this because she believed that all tears were connected, all across the world, that pain was a singular entity, distributed across a body of millions, and that it gave regards to certain individuals at certain times in its endless parade of sadness. If Katsu spent all of his time grieving, he left no tears for others who desperately needed them.

In the 25th year of his life, Katsu understood the simple truth that tears were irrelevant when given specific origins such as sadness, instead seeing that his mother had been wrong when, standing at the front of the crowd assembled in the Western chapel of Christ, his wife Mai stepped into view for the first time in her elaborately glorifying, pale pink kimono, the snow lightly drifting down outside, magnifying the intensity of the pale spirit of beauty that came to him, now, fulfilling his exploration of tears of happiness. He remembered weeping, and he remembered buckling under some weight that threatened to break his knees so that the effect could have some form of permanent meaning.

So he learned that crying was an essential element to life. In the 30th year of his life, he learned to cry for all manner of things, never desiring to simply categorize tears into sadness and joy. Infertility, for example, were tears of anguish in consideration to Mai's deep, dark pain. Discovery into the proper elements needed to compose a basic compound that highlighted the fire of curing one of the most dangerous diseases known to man? These had birthed tears of mad, ecstatic, energized victory, insanity in glee, tickled and finely pronounced. Tears were an incategorizable anomaly.

Nevertheless, they held the most significant meaning in the 35th year. The tears he shed then marked the start of something deeper and darker: permanent anguish.

 _Katsu and Mai Suzushii,_

 _We need to speak urgently at Tokyo Metropolitan Matsuzawa Hospital. The test results have confirmed a danger and it would be better to speak with you both in person. I'll need to see Mai again for a screening, and would ask that you keep a level head as I explain the nature of our discovery. Please schedule a meeting with me at the next possible time for you both, as this matter is extremely important._

 _In respect,_

 _Dr. Aido Matsuda_

The 35th year meant much to Katsu in terms of the power of tears. And now Mai felt its harsh breathe upon the back of her neck. Dr. Matsuda at first brought them into a small, green room, one that displayed orangutans and elephants painted onto the lime world, happily swinging on vines over a river of applauding crocodiles. The chair in which the good doctor sat Mai was comfortable in how squishy its red leather could be, and the cup of hot coffee he had offered them both still, to this day, in the deepest, darkest part of Katsu's memory, smelled heavily of genuine Costa Rican.

Katsu could remember sipping away at that coffee, remembered its fine, non-illusioned taste… and it had meant everything to him. Simplicity, normality, a time for taste.

Then the doctor had spoken. Had told them the truth. And the truth…well, coffee just never tasted the same again.

 _She's going to die…if I don't do something._

 _She's going to die…if you do._

Men in white coats think highest of their ventures, and in the long run, foresee a possible future bent according to the dictations of their will, unquestioned. Katsu was no exception.

At first, the Banshee syndrome was a small tumor growing steadily in the right hemisphere of Mai's brain, sending only miniature shockwaves through her nervous system that resulted in little screams as her vocals were hijacked. Katsu remembered just _how_ small these had been, and how significant it had been that they must stay small. At night, she would awaken from her sleep and scream out, sometimes in pain, sometimes in pre-pain as her body became unpredictable. Over time, she could not function without the morphine shots.

Her skin paled. Her eyes became glossy. Day by day, Mai fell deeper and deeper into a degrading, zombified state. Soon her mind began to go with her body.

 _What else could I have done?_

 **So the war began.**

She stared at him from the other side of the glass…or at least, he liked to pretend that she was. In fact, her eyes were closed. Closed, and lost to the world. She was nothing, could be nothing, not now, perhaps never again… Suspended in frozen animation, in her own frozen world, how could she ever be anything less than a true statue, without purpose anymore? He hated her. He hated her for being a statue. Despised her, loathed every idea of her… and collapsed, again and again, at the foot of her capsule, screaming in anguish, as his desperation to have her back overwhelmed her.

 _But what else could he do but scream?_

He did not collapse today. Merely stared and stared and stared until even that became too much, and he silently turned away, pretending that he had concluded an important discussion on the ethics of polar bear hunting, leaving her to dance. Dance, dance, dance forever.

Takeshi Aido was bent over a worktable, sparks shooting upward from the little welding torch that he held as he sealed up a rift in Katsu's latest achievement. The device was perfection, a decade's worth of precision and study. Its exterior was cylindrical, solid gray with a black handle and a little trigger, its top portion protruding a smaller cylindrical nozzle. Quite a simple, stupid aesthetics, but it was a tool, not a canvas. Katsu stopped briefly and regarded the device.

Simple black lettering decorated the device's side: **Cryonic Emitter.**

Aido glanced up at him as he stood there, staring at the thing with lust in his eyes.

"Get yourself a coffee," was the young man's suggestion. "You look shitty."

Katsu nodded. "If I look shitty, it means I've done my job. You want coffee?"

"Had some already… we're out of sweeteners. Don't drink it black."

Katsu turned away from him. "I hate coffee…" He began to walk towards the small little kitchen area that they had established in this large, dark chamber of a workspace, so cold and silent in their dim little world. He ignored the coffee maker and instead rifled through the fridge. Pepsi Refresh Shot stared at him accusingly… and he managed a very weak smile back at it, stealing it out of its frigid container and inhaling the energy drink. He glanced up into the mirror above the kitchen sink.

An old man stared back at him. At the age of forty-nine, Suzushii Katsu looked fifty-nine. His skin was as pale as the ice that dominated his lab, his wrinkles so elegantly crafted onto his withering face. Hard, bloodshot eyes from a sleepless night stared back at him. Thinning black hair hung pathetically, what was left of it. It was safe to say that, without a doubt, he would be dead within just a few short years if today did not go well. And it had to go well. It had to.

Because his time was limited. The Banshee had made sure to hop onto him before Mai had gone into her deep sleep. Working with one's love…often attributed the ailments of said love. But Mai had meant it not. She had never intended Katsu to contract the disease from her weakened body. He never blamed her once…

But his time was running short. Already, his body moved weakly and painfully, an old man's lumber, his stomach disoriented, his mind a wanderer. Mai's life was now tied to Katsu's.

His cellular fired off classical music from the kitchen counter, and he painfully shuffled his way towards the little black device. Aido looked up anxiously.

"Katsu," Katsu answered weakly.

"Mr. Suzushii, I am pleased to inform you that Mr. Takehiko is on his way now. We've just entered the complex."

Katsu's heart sang. At last. Akio Takehiko was on his way.

"Yes," he replied quickly, straining to sound strong and coherent. "Please let yourselves in, no need to knock. We're ready to meet with you. Shall I prepare sake?"

"You have to ask?" Takehiko's young assistant replied with an air of annoyance. Katsu winced. How stupid was he, asking a question like that. Of _course_ they would want sake. It was respectful and proper to business ethics.

"I apologize. Not thinking clearly, of course. I shall have a table prepared," he said, motioning quickly to Aido, who was already sprinting for the cabinets, "and I should like to inform Mr. Takehiko that a coat would be most wise."

"Yes, we've been told about the special nature of your lab. We are prepared. Thank you, Mr. Suzushii." And the line disconnected without even a farewell. Katsu slowly lowered the phone, feeling weaker and weaker as each second passed. Aido was setting bottles of sake in place, elegantly sat upon fine cloth, the air perfumed with sweet lavender. Katsu silently pondered on just how Akio Takehiko, the prince of Tokyo, the billionaire king of Takehiko Tech himself, would react to this frigid, winter wonderland that he lived in.

He glanced at the distant capsule, inside of which was suspended Mai, drifting up and down in the cryonic fluid, a thousand miles away from all other things. The pale blue light that emitted from her tank hit him hard, and he whispered a promise to her: "Today is the day."

He sat himself down on the leather sofa where Aido had situated the drinks, and beckoned to his young assistant. Not a moment too late. As soon as Aido found seat, the door opened, and two men entered the room.

One of them was the man that Katsu had spoken to on the phone. Thin, narrow faced and fair-haired, the hip, young man strolled in confidently in his dark blue business suit, shades pulled up over his forehead, a thin-lipped smile on his face. He gave Katsu and Aido a bow, and turned to present his boss.

Katsu's boss.

The king of Tokyo. No longer a prince, Katsu saw, but a genuine king.

Akio Takehiko was a powerfully built man. Katsu could see the powerful, muscled body wrapped tightly in the thick black suit, a grab that no doubt cost anything more than seven or eight grand. He was young too, slightly older than his assistant, but aging like fine sake, piercing dark eyes and firm, pronounced face of confidence. His black hair was gelled neatly, but he looked like a man who knew of his money and influence and chose to live with an air to each step.

Takehiko bowed to them both, and Katsu and Aido rose (Katsu far more slowly than Aido), and they both returned the bow. The pain was almost unbearable to Katsu, but he masked it well, his mission far superior to his state.

Akio studied the hall carefully, smiling to himself as he observed the armies of ice crystals that coated the ceiling and walls, taking in the large ventilation in the roof that emitted a powerful blast of cold.

"You truly are the cryonics god of this company, as they've told me," he said in a powerful, but kind voice. "I'm honored to finally see your ice palace."

Katsu grinned, chuckling softly. "A man must become one with his field if he wishes to perfect it."

"And I expect nothing less," Akio returned politely, shaking Katsu's hand and settling himself down beside his assistant, who was already drinking deeply from his sake bottle. "This is my assistant, Iwao. He'll be archiving this meeting and running numbers."

Katsu nodded, exhaling deeply and fighting to remain calm. He was so shaky on the inside. So terrified. He motioned at the emitter that lay on the table before them.

"Mr. Takehiko, I want to introduce to you the success of a decade's worth of research. Thanks to your continual allowance, I am pleased-" He faltered. Akio's gaze had briefly shifted over to the far corner of the chamber, where Mai's capsule glowed with brilliant luminescence in the dimness. He quickly looked back to the emitter, and Katsu continued, sweating, "-to inform you that the device meets company regulations and standard for field use."

"I'd like a demonstration," Akio requested, smiling encouragingly as he studied the odd device. "Have you prepared one?"

"Absolutely!" Katsu was now breathing heavily, so caught in his desperation to please the chairman and receive the funding that he needed to pursue the rest of his research. He reached forward and hoisted the device into his hands. However, as soon as he had it, the weight became too much for him, and it slipped quite loudly and violently onto the table. Bottles of sake went flying and the contents of the device rattled about excitedly. A small hissing sound issued, and a faint white mist spewed out of the top portion of the device. The mist hovered in the air for a moment, everyone staring with wide eyes, and descended back down. When it did, a small portion of the table turned icy white, suddenly covered in slowly spreading frost.

Katsu was screaming on the inside, embarrassed beyond belief. The device was not supposed to be emitting mist without the trigger being activated. Had he broken the thing when he had dropped it? His dying body often made it difficult to lift even basic objects, and he had not accounted for the device itself when pondering about this meeting.

"I'm s-sorry," he strained quickly, wiping his fingers across his balding head, forgetting that the hair there was slowly fading away into nothingness. Aido, bless his heart, quickly picked up the device, smiling. Iwao was looking one hundred percent doubtful about the competence of the two scientists, Akio sad. Aido, clearing his throat, said in a small voice, "Let me demonstrate the proper usage, shall I?" He and Katsu both noted Iwao typing fiercely into his tablet device, a smirk slowly growing on his face. He looked up and nodded casually, indicating for them to continue their little performance.

Aido, nodding encouragingly at Katsu, hoisted the device against his chest, holding it awkwardly as a child would a shotgun, aiming it at a female shaped mannequin that Katsu had painted a red target onto the breasts of.

"The emission, as you have already seen," Aido said, nodding at the frosted corner of the table, "focuses high frequencies of concentrated ice crystals, ensuring rapid spread from a three meter range."

"Show them," Katsu murmured, offering a prayer to whatever God may be listening. Not that he believed in one, except in times of desperation.

Aido squeezed the trigger of the device, and a thin, hissing stream of mist, almost invisible, spewed out like the remnants of an aerosol can and saturated the air around them with a sudden drop in temperature before the mist encountered the mannequin. The dummy, and the floor around it, along with part of the wall where the thing stood, turned white as ice crystals began to grow and cover them. Within seconds, they were sparkling with pure, chilly allure. Akio was on his feet at once, Iwao studying the ice from afar and typing something else in, a frown upon his face. The billionaire crouched down, studying every inch of the ice encased mannequin, rubbing his finger along the floor and tossing the frost aside. He looked very, very interested. Katsu smiled. He _did_ look very interested. That was a very good sign.

"As you can see," he managed, walking over to Akio and standing beside the chairman, "this new technology could change the way we work with medicines, food storage, even on-site police and military work. The ice crystals are purified from concentrated Alligate strands, ensuring powerful resistance against UV radiation. Takehiko Tech could sell this device to the Japan Self-Defense Forces and introduce modern revolutions that could reintroduce safe, efficient firearms into the hands of our nation's defenders."

"A weapon, then?" Akio glanced at him uncertainly. "This is your vision?"

"Not at all. I merely outline the possibilities. Indeed, it works better for the medical profession and the markets. Fresher food, advanced efficiency in organ transplantation-"

"It could, couldn't it?" But Akio was not smiling. Katsu frowned. _Why_ was he not smiling?

"You… you have had a team of inspectors give regular visits over a five-year timeline, and we've always passed inspection. You know, naturally, that this device is the result of legal means."

"I don't think Takehiko Tech is interested in selling an ice gun to the Special Forces," Iwao suddenly piped up, looking smugger than ever. "This toy gun of yours is not what we expected when we were given your ten page report. We expected something more…PC."

Katsu spun around, glaring at the man. "PC?"

Iwao nodded. "Something that held mass public appeal. Something that could not be used against the general populace."

"In the right hands, this device need not ever threaten the general populace," Aido snapped, crossing his arms. "As Katsu has said-"

"What of your wife?" Akio had broken through the argument, suddenly turning his full attention upon Mai. Katsu stared at the man, wide-eyed and confused. Biting his lip, he glanced from Akio to Mai's capsule and back to Akio again.

"M-my wife?"

"Yes. The same theoretical process that made this device possible: you utilized it in the cryogenics of that capsule. And how has she fared?"

"F-fared?" Katsu's heart was hammering. He was asking about _that_? Now?

Aido quickly stepped forward, grinning. "Very well, Mr. Takehiko. Katsu's technology has been tested on various, legalized subjects, dogs, cats, you name it, and the diseases-"

"We've already received your reports," Iwao cut in. "I believe what Mr. Takehiko is asking about is the expectations for Mrs. Suzushii. The connection between this project and the Banshee vaccination that you mentioned briefly in the report."

Katsu paled terribly, even more so than he usually did these days. "I…I was hoping we could discuss that, actually. The success of this device, of this project, is why my wife still lives. Frozen, asleep, but alive. The disease had been hindered because of my technology. Without it, she would already have passed. Proving that this device works efficiently, I believe that we can see a reasonable project and that I may qualify for higher funding to continue my research into Banshee. Within a matter of years, very few years, given the proper funding, I believe I could find a cure."

"That's a big if," Iwao stated. "Company funds don't do well dangling on a line you have to squint to see."

Akio looked troubled. "I…I'm afraid Iwao is right, Mr. Suzushii. We've seen the success of this emitter and I'm pleased at the results of your work with it, but I was under the impression that the emitter was not the focal point of the experiment. Merely an apparatus in which to fuel the medicinal studies."

"It is!" Katsu insisted, his voice shaking. "The capsule that contains Mai is possible because of this technology, the same technology that has given the emitter its potential. She lives because of it!"

"She lives, frozen, practically lifeless," Iwao snapped coldly…far colder than the room itself. "Our customers want thriving, active recipients, not immobile shells."

Katsu stepped forward threatening, staring Iwao down. He pointed a finger at the man. "Don't you dare call her that!" Aido stepped in between them, placing his hands upon Katsu's shoulders and squeezing.

"You have to remain calm," he breathed.

But Akio was speaking now, and he sounded sad. "I'm… I'm sorry, Mr. Suzushii. But I'm afraid we were misinformed about the nature of this conference. As much as I hate to admit it, Iwao's words are true: we cannot sell this emitter alone. The markets thrive well enough on their own and the medicinal groups want Banshee results, not… not temporary placebos."

Katsu's heart sunk. His emotions curled inward. Temporary…

"…placebos," he finished the thought aloud, turning to Akio. Turning very, very coldly. "You…you truly called my work, my success…a temporary…placebo…?"

Akio opened his mouth to apologize, but Katsu held up a hand. His expression had gone chilly. "My work," he hissed, his voice not his own, but something colder and darker, deep down in his soul, "is not temporary placebo. It is a testament to the nature of both the disease and the resources needed to combat it. This emitter is part of the beginning stages of that work: her resurrection from that frozen salvation is the end result. I need money."

"I can't," Akio said, shortly, but also difficulty. His eyes did not meet Katsu's. "Not until I have something more concrete. I'll authorize you another year and provide you with the basic, previously agreed upon numbers to ensure a comfortable-"

"WHAT!?" Katsu roared, his eyes bulging, his teeth gritting. Akio's face froze. "Another year!? On the same meager chicken feed!? I NEED THAT MONEY, TAKEHIKO!"

"Katsu!" Aido roared, trying to pull him away, but Katsu shoved him fiercely. Iwao was walking forward, reaching into his pocket as he did so. Akio held up a hand, shaking his head, holding Iwao at bay. The Taser, however, did not go back into the suit pocket.

"I'm dying!" Katsu hissed into Akio's face, his voice trembling with fear. "I'll be dead within a matter of time. I don't have long. If I die, so does my wife! Her life is tied to my own! I'm the only one who can help her, the only one who can save her! I need funding to make this possible!"

"As long as I see results-" But Akio never got any other words of that sentence out before Katsu threw himself forward. The man did not even know why he did it, but suddenly, the rage that filled Katsu made him violent, and he grabbed Akio's shoulders tightly, hissing. Iwao threw his arm out, the Taser cackling, but Akio thrust his hand forward and stayed Iwao, pushing Katsu away. Katsu stumbled backwards, falling onto the couch, accidentally knocking the emitter onto the floor. Iwao and Aido jumped backwards as a thick cloud of ice misted out of the device, chilling the air and completely freezing the table. Katsu's right shoe grew frost on its tips, but he noted it not. He was breathing heavily, his eyes closed in anguish.

He had failed. He had acted irrationally and had failed.

Akio Takehiko studied the old man for several long moments, Iwao standing very close to the chairman protectively.

"I'm so sorry," Akio whispered, sighing, and he walked away, gesturing at Iwao to follow. He stopped briefly beside Aido, whispering, "When he cools off, take him out for dinner. He needs to get out of this lab." Aido could only stare at the chairman incredulously, the young man deeply troubled. Akio passed 12,000 yen into Aido's hand, bowed deeply to them both, and soon, he and Iwao were gone. Gone just as quickly as they had come. Gone with all of Katsu's deepest hopes…


	2. Chapter 2

Shi Hanako tripped over her own damn boots as she scurried up the dingy, smelly hall of Lotus Local's main research building. Born to be an eternal klutz, her square frames went skidding across the stone floor and settled themselves neatly against the feet of a suit of Samurai armor that stood beside an office door. Blindly crawling across the floor, she searched desperately through the terrible blur before her until her green fingernails pinpointed the useless spectacles. Another great start to another great day.

Not that she had expected it to be anything less. Orochi Maki would never forgive himself if he did not ensure that Shi's day went without discord, insults and sexual harassment. It was the way he liked things, the way he thrived, because there was not a damn man, woman or child who would dare to argue anything less than Orochi Maki.

Shi quickly ducked into the women's restroom to clean the dirt off of his white summer dress. _His_ white summer dress, not _hers_. No, never hers. It was always going to be his because he demanded it be that way. He would not have her in anything else. His rule from day one had been simple: _Look as I command, act as I command…do as I command._ A chance at the University of Tokyo made following his commands worth it. With his connections, she had a very good chance at obtaining such a dream come true. But only if she did as he commanded.

Her dark orange hair hung pathetically over her face and she struggled desperately to keep it back, having forgotten braids yet again. Dark eyes stared back at her from the other side of the mirror and they asked for a simple truth: _What next?_

Shi did not believe that there would ever be a next. Just a… now and a deal with it. Naturally, that was the only way it could be. She brushed a dead beetle out of her hair (which had gotten lodged in her curls when she had tripped), and pumped her fist firmly.

"Today is a day that will not turn gray, but rather turn into another fine day." She spoke the words aloud, but believed them only on an exterior basis. It was a stupid little rhyme that she had taught herself to lighten an idea within her soul as each day began. And often times, Maki liked to prove her otherwise.

Her dress cleaned, she nearly tripped again as she sped out of the door, checking her watch desperately. She was already ten minutes late for work, and Maki _always_ noticed. She sped through several offices, accountants and telemarketers glancing up as an orangey white blur shot past them. She managed to make it into an elevator just as it was closing, and the young man stared at her incredulously. He was a fine man in a fine suit with a fine haircut: practically the opposite of how she considered her ruffled state at the moment as she breathed hard, leaning against the wall for support.

"You know this job isn't so great as to take it that seriously," the man said with a half smirk, amused. "Take a breather."

Shi glared at the man, her eyes narrowing into a deathly gaze. "Appreciate your means, appreciate everything else," she replied dryly. Standing up straight, her breathing coming under her control, she began to fix her hair as the elevator went down into the basement level. The young man chuckled, and was still grinning as he stepped off into the basement and left her alone in the elevator. Breathing deeply, she placed a little golden key from her purse into a lock built into the button pad. Turning it right once, she hit a button near the bottom: **Bz.** Bz, the finality basement, a special location for those who had the proper authorization, and for good reason, too. The experiments did down here were beyond illegal.

Stepping out into the musty, smelly sub-basement, the air thick with the scent of almost sulfuric chemicals, Shi rounded a corner and stepped into the main lab. It was like a doctor's observation studio converted into a mess of tables filled with hundreds of glowing beakers and papers. To one side, there was a massive glass tank, almost as if it had been ripped from the shark section of an aquarium, but this tank was not filled with water: it was filled with hundreds of insects. Caterpillars, butterflies, grasshoppers, bees, wasps, flies… It was a utopia of crawlies. A series of tubes led from the top of the tank to a machine that looked a lot like a generator, over which a man in a lab coat was bending over, examining.

To the other side of the lab was a smaller, tucked away space, and it was covered in plants. Ivy, flowers, a miniature lotus fountain and a tank filled with bright purple hemlock, all surrounded by bubbling beakers of vibrant green and blue goop. Her lab station, and probably the most foul smelling. But her work was quite worth the chemical odor that made hairs stand on the end. Her work that no one else seemed to believe in. She quickly bustled over to her flowery corner, glancing up at the _Tokyo Tribe_ poster over her desk. Takeshi Uematsu glared down at her, sparking encouragement into the start of her day at Lotus Local and the insane men who governed her very future.

She saluted the male model on the paper and bowed before him. "Give me strength, bitter one," she whispered, and she immediately set to work, checking her charts and the growth of the giant pea pod from last night. Stretching out her measuring tape over one of its long, slender necks, she saw that the pod had grown about six inches more from the previous night…well below her expectations.

She glanced at a beaker of purple goo. The enhanced growth hormone was not doing what was expected of it, and Maki would never sell it unless the results showed a foot growth within a ten hour radius. Cursing to herself, she slipped on a pair of thick, black rubber gloves and carefully, carefully picked up the purple goop. The chemicals that comprised it were highly volatile when handled roughly, and she had already received plenty of burns on her legs. She had to handle it very, very-

"Hanako!"

She nearly dropped the entire thing, jumping. His voice was practically neck raping her, and she turned around, finding his face inches from her own. Maki had wandered over from the generator-like machine that he had been inspecting, and was gazing at her with cold eyes. Thirty-three, fair haired with a fine goatee, the man prodded a gloved finger sharply into her left shoulder.

"Ouch?" Shi suggested, grinning sheepishly.

" _Ouch_ ," Maki mimicked. "Ouch, ouch. Ouch!" He prodded her again. "Late. What kind of people walk in late, Shi Hanako?"

"You tell me," she replied, just as she had rehearsed. "You're the boss. Your word is law."

Maki smirked. "Stupid, uncaring, uninvested time-wasters. What kind of people walk in late?"

"Stupid, uncaring, uninvested time-wasters?"

"Very good. I'm pleased that you know these things, because the information is essential to the evolutionary growth that Lotus Local strives for. Naturally, you care more than even I for its successes."

"Naturally is the keyword, just as you said-"

 _POP!_ He slapped her, hard. Her cheek went blood red at once and she doubled over, the beaker slipping out of her grip. It smashed onto the floor and saturated her boots, and Maki jumped backwards. Purple steam began to rise, and Shi quickly covered her face, leaping away as well from the cackling, acidic vapor. She looked at Maki incredulously, who was looking as amused as quickly as he had annoyed with her.

"Nice athletics…" he muttered.

"Why!?" Shi persisted, tears in her eyes as she gestured at the mess on the floor. "You know what those chemicals cost, what it takes to produce them!?"

"More money than you're worth," Maki whispered, and he pushed her roughly against the wall beside her corner. The back of her head seared with pain where she hit the stone, and she tried to massage the throbbing bump, but Maki closed the space between them, his hot breath fiery upon her neck. She trembled in fear. Maki had never made such movements this early in the day… and none so forcibly… Her cheek burned with the furiosity of his impact, but he had her pinned and she could not even rub the damn thing. "Isn't that right?"

"Y-yes!" she nearly sobbed, struggling to contain composure. "Yes!"

"Say it," he whispered into her ear, his slimy tongue running across the upper portion of her neck. She was revolted, felt sickened by the man. She had grown used to, over the course of two years, Maki making these kinds of advances in the dead hours of the night, her silent contract with him her beckoning… but this… so early, and so…violently… A mad shadow had descended down upon this demon.

"I-I-I…" She was stammering and sweating. "I'm a not worth the money, I'm not worth the money!"

His hand slammed into her… into a place where it need not go, but there it was. She felt faint, crippled by the rape but lacking the willpower or physical strength to throw him off. His fingers dug greedily, and she bit her lip in pain, so hard that she drew blood.

"That's right, Shi," her rapist whispered. "You're a piece of what?"

"T-trash…" she sobbed, succumbing to her tears, her body going limp. Resistance was futile.

"But what will I build you up to be?"

He mouthed the word with her. "Royalty."

"That's right," he whispered, his free hand around her neck. "I build up emperors. I build up legends. Tokyo will benefit from the gifts I will send along with you. Isn't that right?"

"Y-yes…" Tears and tears and tears.

"And that is because?"

"I-ouch! Aagh… B-because I w-will have learned from the Dragon Prince."

Maki nodded, pulling away from her and freeing her of the sexual assault. He slapped her once more, very lightly, on the cheek. "Correct. Forget it not… and don't be late for work ever, ever again." And Maki turned away, hands reaching into his pockets, a confident smile upon his lips.

Shi stood there forever, caught in an eternal web of immobility and strife. Her heart littered whatever remained of her interior, her face saturated in tears. Just…like that… She was shaking. Cold and terrified. Maki bent back down over his machine, picking up a screwdriver as he did, humming to himself cheerily. Shi leaned against her desk, desperately staring about at the beakers assembled before her. Some very poisonous chemicals bubbled in these glass containers, and her soul screamed at her to toss them all at Maki.

Sighing, she lowered herself down to her chair, but cried out in pain, unable to sit. His fingernails had cut her deep, and she felt blood down there. Blood there, and blood in the back of her hair. She had hit that stone hard. She could not sit. She could hardly breathe.

"Today is a day that will not turn gray, but rather turn into another fine day," she struggled to say, her lips trembling as she blinked back the tears. "Today is a day that will not turn gray, but rather turn into another fine day."

 _"Today is a day that will not turn gray, but rather turn into another fine day."_ That phrase was her existence. She desperately reached out with her gloved hand and stroked the petals of an overlarge white lotus. Her only friend. Her only friend.

"You won't ever hurt me, will you?" she whispered desperately to the flower, needing it to speak back to her, assuring her of…something. Her plants were all she had in this world, and her work with them kept her alive and moving forward through the daily hells that Maki believed her worthy of enduring. Shi Hanako, "that weird plant girl…" It was all she had to her name, but it was all she could ever have until she was safely tucked away in Tokyo's university and far, far away from Maki.

She would endure. She had to endure. It was essential that nothing stand in the way of her work, and her future. She would succeed where Maki wished to make her fail. He could attack her body, but he could not attack her experiments. He needed them. He would make a fortune off of them in the long run. So let him rape her… let him hit her… because in the end, she would rise above anything that he could ever be. When she was accepted into Tokyo, she would be one with Japan's greatest scholars. Maki was not going to tear her future down!

She set to work, mixing new chemicals together to replace the growth hormone that the bastard had wasted. She could hear him whistling away in his corner, fixing that stupid assimilation machine of his. _The ultimate breeding factory for the vibrant buzzers_ , he had claimed, whatever the hell that meant. She did not care. Bugs were not her work, plants were. And she was devising a plan to make these plants capable of fighting off the insects that threatened them. Not only did she intend to give them enhanced growth: she intended to give them new biological advantages. Weapons. Her work meant more to the world than his stupid bug machine.

 _Today is a day that will not turn gray, but rather turn into another fine day._

She shut out his whistling with her catchphrase, concentrating on applying the correct dosage of Baylean extract to the Nydrus chemical.

 _Today is a day that will not turn gray, but rather turn into another fine day._

She was in so much pain. He had hurt her so bad. She needed to run to the bathroom, to clean herself, to check the damage… but if she left, she _knew_ he would hurt her again.

 _Today is a day that will not turn gray, but rather turn into another fine day… Today is a day that will not turn gray, but rather turn into another fine day… Today is a day that will not turn gray, but rather turn into another fine day…_

Her experiments were among the illegal considerations that required a sub-basement such as this one, but for the life of her she could not fathom as to why his bug mating experiment was a red flag. She never asked Maki about his work. Why should she?

 _Today is a day that will not turn gray, but rather turn into another fine day._

There were a few other researchers who popped on in down here, calling out their greetings to Maki, who cheerfully bowed to their lateness. He raped them not. He beat them not. _They_ were allowed to come down whenever they damn well pleased. But she…she was his slave. She bore no such right.

 _Today is a day that will not turn gray, but rather turn into another fine day._

The more pain she felt, the more she tenderly stroked the vines that hung from the giant green bulb before her, and the flowers that surrounded her workspace, whispering desperate pleas for attention from them.

 _Today is a day that will not turn gray, but rather turn into another fine day._

"Fuck him," she hissed to herself, squeezing the beaker of Vllynthine fiercely. "He just can't do this…"

 _Today is a day that will not turn gray, but rather turn into another fine day._

"I'm a human being, aren't I!?" she snapped angrily at her plants. They almost seemed to be very attentive to her pleas. "Aren't I worth something after all this!?"

 _Today is a day that will not turn gray, but rather turn into another fine day._

"And he treats me like shit because…because…." Because he could. Because he was her ace in the hole, and he knew it. He had influence. His family had influence. She did not. She had come from a poor background, a street vendor family from Osaka, thriving off of the business venture of well cared for flowers and hay dolls. Her sister had been one for the dolls, but Shi Hanako had needed the flowers. They had given her the true nature of motherhood that she desired. Power to give life, to watch it grow, to feel it thrive. However, none of this merited much influence in Japan's school system. Private tutors meant nothing to esteemed academic palaces.

 _Today is a day that will not turn gray, but rather turn into another fine day._

And now what? Now what!?

 _Today is a day that will not turn gray, but rather turn into another fine day._

"His whore," she sobbed quietly to herself. She set the beaker down and buried her face into her gloves, the pain too much to bear. She spun around, intent on going to the bathroom, accepting whatever fate he would have for her when she returned.

She leapt back. Maki was once more standing there, his arms crossed, a small smile on his face. Had he been listening to her talking with the plants? Had he seen her sobbing?

"Please move," she whispered desperately, trying to wipe away her tears. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"In due time," Maki whispered back. "But first I want to brief you on an assignment."

"Whatever it is, can't it wait?" Shi begged. But Maki shook his head.

"No, trash…it can't. Now, listen: I have a very, very important meeting tonight. The meeting is set to take place in the Cherub Gardens, 9 p.m. sharp. And I need a driver."

"D-driver?" She shook her head incredulously. _What in the hell?_

"Yes, a driver. The bastards suspended my license this morning and I can't pick the thing up until tomorrow morning. So I need you to drive me to the Gardens."

"I-I can't!" Shi said, shaking her head. "I have plans tonight…"

"Your plans, the only plans I'm giving you permission to have, is to drive me to the Gardens," Maki said in his most threatening tone yet, shadowing her with his demonic malice. She cowered in that shadow. "And let me tell you something else: you won't speak, and you won't get out. I'm to meet my guests alone. You'll drive me, you'll shut up, and you'll wait. You'll wait for as long as it takes. And let me make another thing clear." His hand shot out and found her neck once more. This time, he squeezed firmly. She felt her air cut off, felt bruises within her desperate future. He leaned forward, and pressed a deep, firm kiss onto her lips. When he pulled away, he hissed, "After we're done, you're to drive us to my condo. I've got a long night ahead of me and I need a favor from you."

He smiled. She almost vomited. A favor. Of course he did. There was only one thing that "favors" meant to Maki. She slumped, forgetting how firmly he held her neck even after he had released her. Some of his fellow researchers were glancing their way, but they were all used to Maki's abuse and, quite frankly, cared only if it was targeted directly at them. He smiled kindly at her now. "Go clean your cunt." He turned and left.

Shi Hanako collapsed onto the floor, her hand desperately grasping at her bruised throat. She leaned her head against an overhanging vine, and held onto it dearly for life, wishing that she could become a plant herself and hide away from Maki forever…


	3. Chapter 3

Akemi Shinpi. The name had haunted the headlines of the Tokyo Times for three years and was not heading off any time soon. Of course, not that name. No, not that name at all. That name had another name, and the name of that name was, at times, nameless. They knew _not_ that it was Akemi Shinpi, the real name…but merely the better name. The promise. The evolutionary name! The papers had coined it, and she… she had merely accepted the name. It suited.

When she had first begun to contemplate a new name, she had gone through many, many different ones. Mysteria. WhoWhat. Questeen. All stupid, all desperate attempts to sound cool and familiar to the context of the act. The papers had done her one favor. The one time they had ever out-thought her. They had named her 'Riddler,' and that name suited her just fine.

Of course, being _named_ something like 'The Riddler' was only a threshold: the door required action to truly pass through, a continuation of the reasoning. Not that she minded. Not that she could have settled for anything less.

Shinpi's black boots dangled cheerily over the city streets so very far, far below. In the lap, resting upon her frilly black skirt, a laptop with a long strand of coding running down the screen, reflected into the lime green lenses of her computerized sunshades. She absorbed the data upon the screen and her fingers robotically dominated the keyboard, typing with the speed of a goddess, breaking through the lines of security in the building across the street within seconds.

Her ruby red lips curved into a smile. All alarms had been deactivated in the Trydell United Bank. Her team could move in. Holding her black gloved hand to her mouth, she pressed a button hidden within it and spoke quickly and confidently. "Security's down. Move."

"Yes sir…or ma'am…" The nervous voice replied just as quickly and dutifully as she had spoken. She smirked. On their end, all they heard was a robotic, gender neutral voice. They need not know who was on the other end. She saw the dark shadows moving on the street below, all of them filing into the shadows behind the bank, guns in hand. She began to type a series of commands into her laptop, and suddenly many miniscule screens appeared, all security cameras within the bank linked to her laptop and her laptop alone, now. Not bad at all for a sixteen year old girl from Tokyo Metropolitan Komae High School. She shook with glee, giggling to herself at the brilliance that was her mind.

Through the screens on her laptop, she saw a door fall off of its hinges, sparks flying from a welding torch, and smiled as her five servants bustled right the hell on in. Servants. That was exactly what they were. Of course, everyone was a servant compared to her genius.

Her team was moving along the main corridor, scurrying across the lobby, tightly packed. Shifting through the security screens on her monitor, she saw one of the night guards coming in from a south point.

"Boogeyman coming in from the left, look at the south hall," she said frantically into their ear pieces. She watched as her team turned, and suddenly, one of them raised their automatic and fired a stream of bullets. Even from out here, she heard the loud popping, wincing, terrified that the noise would draw out the firestorm early. She saw the security guard go down, hit by the stream of ammunition. Nodded. "Well done. Check and make sure he's dead. If he's not, use a knife."

The girl who had shot the officer hurried forward, bending over the fallen man, a switchblade in her hand. Akemi held her breath, watching as the girl checked the man's pulse.

The girl seemed to be hesitating about something, looking around at the other, terrified and frozen on the spot. There seemed to be a lot of blood, but the girl was shaking her head, Akemi saw. No. No, no, no.

She spoke into the comm. "He'll turn you in. Capture you. You'll never get your share of the money."

"P-please…"

"Do it," Akemi pressured her, a darkness surrounding the teenager's soul.

The girl on the screen looked defeated, stained in the blood of the fallen man. Then, slowly, the girl, with a trembling hand, sunk her blade into the officer's neck. The rest of the team looked uncomfortable. Akemi, meanwhile, was very pleased. That girl had a future.

"Alright, that's the spirit!" one of the grunts cried out, laughing. Akemi agreed.

"Well done. Now get up and get moving. I'm transferring the codes to the vault now." She began typing in quick succession, barely registering the shaking, unnerved group on her screen. Everyone was stunned save for the bouncing idiot who was ringing the girl's hand. Death was a part of this job, and she had told them all that from the start, had made sure that they were quite clear on that element. She had killed, once. Why shouldn't they? It toughened you up, made you strong. And if you were strong, you were able. If you were able, you were adequate. If you were adequate… the sky was the limit.

However, she _did_ glance about every few seconds. Looking for that shadow. That powerful, promising shadow. Nothing. Nothing for now… not yet, anyway. Every actor must come in on cue, after all. She smiled to herself. Yes indeed.

Her team shuffled down into the back of the main lobby, where a giant vault door was situated. The cameras and sensors around the door had gone down, naturally, in the building itself, thanks to Akemi's divinity. She saw one of the boys she had hired press the green button on the door's command console. Immediately, the boy jerked backward, crying out in pain, spasming on the floor to the shock of the rest of the hired grunts. Akemi snorted, trying to stifle the noise. Oops. She must have forgotten to take out the electrical field. Shaking with laughter at the jerking boy on the floor, who must surely be in anguish as electricity danced about within him, she sent in codes to disable the electrical taps.

"Don't mind him," she told her team dully. "Hazards. There are security programs in check that I did not account for. Oops."

"Oops!?" the girl who had killed the security guard cried out in her own anguish, distressed and nearly on the verge of collapsing. "Oops!?"

"Be quiet," Akemi ordered at once. "I'm concentrating." The codes she sent in went through successfully, and the green button that had zapped the first bastard now actually glowed. A heavier, meaner looking grunt pushed the others aside, actually stepping on top of their fallen friend to press the button.

"Move your asses, I want to get out of here," he grunted loudly. When he pushed the button, the door began to open, slowly, revealing inside a wide chamber. The room, which Akemi now linked a large screen to, was an airtight chamber with dozens and dozens of little compartments built into the walls, not unlike the postal service boxes. Numbers were assigned to each compartment, which required access codes.

"Alright. Number 339." Akemi smiled. 339. The Myazaki account. Her team moved as quickly as she had originally ordered them too, setting the little sensor devices that Akemi had constructed onto the 339 compartment. The nodes linked together on her computer, the signals amplified, and suddenly, data began streaming like crazy into a sub-section of her network. Ten million yen…twenty million…fifty…seventy…Her heart hammered at the exciting nature of it all. It was like stealing candy from a very ill child. The funds transferred successfully. Her team, however, still stood on guard. Just as she had planned. The indicator on the sensors that _they_ carried was inaccurate, intentionally rest before the mission, opposed to the true indicator of completion on her screen. In truth, the funds had been transferred to her private account with a 100% completion rate, The numbers on the devices they carried, however, read 52…53…54…

Smiling darkly to herself, she shook her head sadly. _Suckers_. She typed a single line of command into a little box in the corner of her screen. **0003/alphaTerrace/fragment/deconstruct.**

Lights suddenly blasted on all throughout the building. The sensors that her team had placed upon the compartment suddenly began to shoot out sparks, shaking for a moment before exploding in tiny compulsions, making her team jump back in fright. And then, the real fun. The vault door slammed shut, sealing itself tightly, and all throughout the building, alarms were going off, louder than annual festivities could ever hope to manage.

"WHAT IS HAPPENING!?" the guard killer screamed, her voice shrill, but not as shrill as the alarms.

"YOU SAID THE SECURITY WAS DISABLED!" the large grunt whined.

Akemi was on her feet already, shutting the laptop into her bag, a cool smile upon her face. She spoke gently, nurturing, into her com device. "I've already secured the funds. They're safely tucked away in my private account. I thank you highly for the assistance." She giggled and giggled as she ducked into a nearby doorway that led back down through the apartment building that she had been sitting on top of, taking the steps three at a time. The terrified voices of her team echoed loudly in her ears.

"It-it-it was a s-setup! She set us up! She set us up!"

"YOU BITCH!"

"WHY!?"

Akemi giggled continually. "As if I would ever have given you shares of this money. I'm the genius who made it all possible. What hard work did you do? I'll leave you to the police…or Aoandon, whoever comes first to find you there. I'm sure they'll let you out of that vault, in time. Prison won't be so bad, I'm…sure."

"YOU BIT-"

Akemi disconnected the line, pulling the buds from her ear and disposing of them in the lobby trash can. She stepped out on the sidewalk and began to make her way down the opposite side of the street, as police sirens sounded off in the distance, closing in on the crazed bank alarms. Akemi still smiled to herself, patting the laptop bag kindly. It was her only friend in the whole world, and that suited her just fine. People, like data, were created to be used when needed and deleted when needed. All people, in the end, were strands of data, caught in an infinitely complex arrangement of simulation and protocol. Sometimes, the anti-virus caught the nasties, while others took a backdoor out.

When she reached the black limo that waited at the end of the curve, she stopped briefly, watching the police cars swarm the bank in the distance… and she also watched as something else entirely joined them. It descended out of the sky, so fast it was practically a blur, and landed neatly before the assembled cops. Shrouded in a dark, flowing cape, robes and hood masking its form, a katana flashed in one hand, a menacing presence dutifully bowed to by the assembled police. Her breath caught as she studied the dark, menacing shadow, and then she forced herself into the limo, smiling, blushing that she had gotten to see _him_. Tonight had been another night for her. A game. The game that she had promised to always play with the dark one, with Aoandon, the dark spirit of Tokyo. The city's nightly defender.

Once she was secured inside, her drive, shrouded in his own darkness at the front, sped away, knowing where to go, what to do. Akemi watched from the back of the limo, studying the dark Aoandon as he sped into the bank, the police following closely on his perfect heels.

Her great love, Aoandon. She had so many more games to play with them.

Akio Takehiko collapsed upon the sofa, eyes closed, staring at the waiting bottle of drink but far from desiring to touch the stuff. On the screen of the television before him, a reporter was covering the break-in at Trydell United. Akio sported a bruise over his left eye, still swollen but nothing major.

 **Five individuals arrested on charges of murder during break-in. Claims sixth individual responsible. One security guard found dead.** Akio closed his eyes, sighing. Had he only been there sooner. Had he only been there before that man was killed. He swore to himself loudly and kicked the bottle of sake over in anger. A withered old hand caught the bottle before it could hit the floor. Akio had heard the silent old man slipping up behind him, of course, and was used to the almost invisible quality of the man's movements.

The elder looked down upon Akio solemnly, his head bowed in respect. Hitoshi Katashi, dressed neatly in a dark blue tunic, offered Akio the drink back.

"Take it," he almost seemed to command, which, to anyone besides Akio, would have been strange and disrespectful. However, Akio knew better: Hitoshi was his father as much as he was his servant, at least, he had been since Akio was ten years old. When Akio had lost his mother and father. A man like Hitoshi could get away with giving commands to his master, and Akio appreciated the sentiment of the old man. Nevertheless, he shook his head.

"I can't. I need a clear mind."

"Your mind has been cleared, for a time. Distraught will leave no retribution." Hitoshi pressed the drink into his master's hand. "You will drink, and then do the thinking afterward." His voice was withery and shaky, but still, somewhere in there, burned the furiosity of the man who had once been one of Japan's greatest soldiers…and the closest thing that Akio had to a father.

Akio took the drink from him and actually did find comfort as it went down his throat. Hitoshi was right. Hitoshi was always right, the old man. Aoandon owed it to the dead security guard to keep level. He stood up, bowing to Hitoshi, equal to his great servant and father, and turned with the old man towards the back of the living room. Together they marched in silence, right up to the great painting of Akio and his parents. Their firm, rough faces stared down at him, allowing the young, nine year old Akio to smile for them both. The painting had been a gift to the family only a year before the murders. Akio bowed, as always, to his parents' oil forms and placed the palm of his right hand against the young Akio Takehiko's heart.

A panel slid open to the right, seemingly an invisible secret of the cherry wood wall, and Akio and Hitoshi descended down the dark, stone steps together, the panel sliding shut behind them. Down, down, down into the darkness, until they reached a small, circular elevator. As it descended, Akio turned to loyal Hitoshi and offered a small thanks, feeling warmer by the presence of his great second father. Hitoshi merely smiled. So very old and very wrinkled, he still always looked decades younger when he smiled. It was the mark of a good life.

The elevator stopped, and the two men stepped out into the great, colossal cave before them. Dark and infinitely abyssal over an endless pit, the platform sprang to life in a series of blue neon that decked out metallic walls across the rocky cavern around them. A massive computer comprising of no less than twenty-two different screens flickered onto life at the far end of the massive platform, displaying everything from city camera surveillance to news stations and police scanners, archiving everything crossed between the lines of information and stored away for later review. In the middle of the platform, a mini-jet, painted black, additional crescent shaped, black wings extending from the tops of the defaults. The Den, as Akio called it. The Den of the Aoandon.

A worktable covered in all manner of tools and strange technological anomalies sat at one side, upon which was strewn a black heap of mess. Hitoshi made a disapproving sound, shaking his head in aggravation.

"You know better!" he snapped at Akio, not noticing his adopted son grinning behind his back as he bustled over to the black mess. Hitoshi picked it up, straightening out the black cloak and jagged cape, its ruffled hood and fully loaded holsters. It was nothing less than something that could be described as a "homeless ninja garb" by the uninitiated to the economic truths of crime fighting.

"It was a late night, Hitoshi."

"Always, always hang it up properly," Hitoshi cried, bustling over to a series of capsules on the left end of the platform. There, situated behind reinforced glass, were several duplicates, though in better shape, for the black heap. The hooded warrior who had donned these battle clothes walked, in his light blue kimono and morning slippers, over to the massive computer as Hitoshi placed the ruffled costume back into its eagerly awaiting capsule.

Akio, settling himself down at his chair, began to type in search keys into his personalized database. **Riddler.** Indeed, Riddler. He had left his mark again last night, according to the NHK World, who had received the audio tape from the Riddler himself. Akio switched over to that news channel now, and right on time.

"We are now going to play said tape," reporter Yuma Kyoto was saying in a grave voice, "as demanded by the Riddler, who has threatened an attack on NHK headquarters if we do not."

Akio shook his head. Naturally, the Riddler would say something like that. Whether or not he would ever follow up on a threat of that nature, though…

The screen flicked to vibrant, neon green, decorated with a single, Times New Roman black question mark. A robotic voice spoke over the still image.

"I am claiming responsibility for the attack on Trydell last night. I have already secured the necessary funds from this venture and have distributed them accordingly. I have to say, too, that it was a very fun adventure. I liked this game. This game meant something deep and I desperately hope to play more games in the future. To my rival, Aoandon, I offer you this: What runs in black, when not in blue, smokeless mist and iceless ice? I will have my game prepared, in time. Give me a few hours and maybe we can play, then, alright. By then, the game should be ready. See you then!"

And just like that, the screen went black.

Akio's fist clenched tightly. The Riddler…the bastard was playing with people's lives in such a despicable, child-like fashion. He had betrayed his own hired thugs and absconded with more than just money: he had absconded with a security guard's life and the futures of the hired thugs that he had so easily manipulated. He had to be stopped. Aoandon owed it to Tokyo, to Japan, to stop him. And stop him, he would.

"Hitoshi… let's rack our brains."


End file.
